One of those standard days when the Euripides, known as the Furies who approached when slapped by the frozen breeze who rose them in the air, I could ask Zephir, God of the wind to bring me Eros so he f***s the the hell out of them and they stop screaming at my ear.

Charlatans, this are the confines I walk, close to the marshal of haunted killers that for some rotting reason near the Goddess of Hatred and Rage, me. The twisting shorelines of which were enclosed by dense stands of water from rooted corpses, my bare feet step by step, on the near grounds two pillars rose at this murky side of the river among clusters of stilted, the river Acheron linked rushing fires of the River Pyriphlegethon, the river of fire, where serial sinners flowed once a cycle of eternity to scream out the Hills of the Abyss for Pardon.

What it was funny it that in this very stop Acheron christianised the souls who ask for redemption as well, in order to enter Paradise, I had more sinners wanting to suck my p**sy here then wanting the river to come down as Acheron showers his hand to their forehead and back down bellow the edges of the water on the redeem. A river of Pain he is as well, don't take me for granted. But you have to keep moving under his will before he spits you back down to the river of lava.

The scaled reptilian natives also dwell in here, with just enough clothing to hide their holes, to be modest, and a sickly sweat smell of agonic vegetation who transpired a stinky aroma, it was quiet alluring to me, lets say not to the aliens who passed here without experiencing the wonders of the river Acheron.

The offerings who floated from this motionless air, because you know it was really like take it or loose it and it had if you really thought about it, it had you stuck here, without moving. Debating between everything, this was not the plain of the judgement you already knew what is coming but your ego still has another chance to torture you.

My p**sy was always wet, but one thing I never have the illusion of a d*ck in me unless is really inside. Many woman who dream of d*cks end up having fibromas inside because the body recreates the memory of the d*ck by the desire of it, the bacterial fauna moves automatically and without the splendour of a d*cks juice inside you can only produce the frustration of a cancer or fibroma at first.

You can dream of both souls meeting as souls, but be aware of the river Acheron, there is one way or the other and if you get stuck in the middle, sickness will bring you down into your own device, males will have other content, they have less problem as heart attacks or lung cancer, for the lack of breathing in their heart, as they masterbation helps them to free this energy down without a higher climax who has to cross up over the heart.

But causing this desire in the opposite sex, is malignant, so be aware of Acheron and let me walk you along, do anything to love their pussies and respect them, they could have another man, instead of waiting for you, stop them from the craving you can still have their love transformed.

Every time I walk I see them, they are everywhere and I wish to free them from the reptilians pertaining to the dead they earn their residence in this areas to earn its degree. On the first glance one might find that the creatures had been decapitated from the butchered haunts, but they knew enough to unswear and hidden their faces in invisible forms, their snaky bodies moved inspiring the sinners to convey into perdition, who cares any ways for the faces the come is shoots off.

Any ways my wet p**sy aware of the walk continued in the shaded path that lead into the settlement of warriors who waited for the Valkaries to pick them up and the ladies who waited for them to return from the Odyssey. There where also this retarded muslim terrorists who thought to have many virgins in Heaven, anyhow. Jedis fighting Jedis too making more master Vaders. I liked to stop there once in a while.

So I set next to the lady and told her.

"Penelope, he has f***ed more mermaids to extend his journey home then Omer could tell, and then he depicted them as horrendous manipulated creatures of the sea, and look at this man fight, there is no good reason for them to fight, if they where in the side of the divine trust me Valhalla would be waiting for them, that in the Elysian fields the noble warriors of Troy are, you can read it in the scriptures."

She rolled to the side of mine converting her waiting in self joy, the liquids of her p**sy turned sweet.

"You can love him, but I wish you enjoy your self. And you, and you, and the other too."

I tend my hand to the Woman who are so beautiful and forgiving and explain to them. "You loose the authority over your freedom, if the man is not there, why would you want to hurt me? Let it be, I'm only the Goddess of Rage. This are the teachings of the Goddess of Rage, don't hate your divine Rage, use it in your power to advance, refine the path of your creative so your legs direct towards it, in a real caring climax atmosphere." Pushed her hard, maybe she rolled over on till she got the momentum.

Standing up soliloquy by the appropriate standard of mine and keep walking in the turn of the path, now this victims are annoying if you stay longer they start clinging to you as if you are going to f*** them hard and free them for that climax, or they reach the level of contentment in their creative or wait for them to learn, you cant satisfied everyone this is one shore of the river! As I stare back at the very look for Acheron to f*** their arse, anyways saddens me because he even gets tired of being a sadist. I scream to the Hells and Heaven.

"Wake up and flow out from this legion"

Fiercely shouted out to half of humanity who waited to be.

"This waters must flow to the whole circulation of Hades!!!"

I don't think he has patience to pour his virtuous waters over their forehead because soon enough they start sucking the hell out from his d*ck and that was not the way of the river. Stuck or flow, was the dwelling of this section. Oh, well, I can't help it! He is indeed a traumatic experience who has my river stuck on this crossover with females who shall be my friends not enemies, but is not for my waters let me tell you.

Then Acheron looks back at me, fearing I'll free them, in Myth and reality Acheron is the only one who has connection to the River of Tartarus that is Hell, be aware of your destination, surrender to the divine creativity he offers but don't get stuck with him.

Shrugging out a turn in the path revealed that I wasn't the only visitor bare nude for the climate, and let me tell you I might be the river Styx, but I consider my self a visitor, a witness and reflection in the waters of narcisus and all those who have emphatic revelations to their own, F*** Echo like if I'm going to listen to that Nymph in the cave, that's another one.

There is nothing I own that happens it flows through me as through any one who has this waters. I anchored in the material realm to watch as I passed, the angels smiled gracefully, sexual creatures of the astral plain as them lovers aquatinted whispers of blissful poetry sharing down the muses to live and laugh.

There is a suggestion when a woman waves her pelvis side to side in her walk, its drawn a happy sensation of madness which becomes unmistakable latter on in the play. The more people write, the more they are in their minds far away from their physical encounters and lower pleasures, the violent passions for me to which, I admit, partly respond, must live with you always in the savage spirit who shall bring you down from the civilised thinking.

Euripide keenly told me as she was threaten, when all I did was sent her to the upper ground as a servant to guard the city of Athens, no I will never find the poems of the Euripidean who as keenly as my lyrical notes ask me to penetrate a love which really produces good to a man and glory. Any how, my p**sy called for the waters, as a member of the Greek tragedies whats is better then having good chill out.

So have dive into the waters, not a coincidence it actually happens that you will find my water Nymphs as I'm one, they al ways praise me as my breast dance with them while we wave in circular swimming, the mystical conception of death doesn't stop here in the river of Hades, this waters are abundant of soul who reach them in the living, prayers, artist, the ones in search of inspiration, the terrible lines who escape from wrath bringing wrath too.

The cheerful cry will turn into wail and vengeance if you don't reach what you want, this for the trouble is graver the skilled who can dive into their own waters are the ones Phallus has, he is the God of Craft and owns the first lands when you enter Hades, if I tell you the artist navigate here, don't strain on me the tragedy for when you fall.

The Dragon Chariot with the voice of hell winged by serpents prophesies off judgement. But do you think my water Nymphs will stop? If one will adjust for the lower rank in their satisfaction of revenge, that curious cry, doesn't affect the sacred length.

I dream of walking the earth with them mortals for my children and descendants too, pregnant the festival of Phallas in the living. You see he is not just a crafter man who exploits the inferior sex and races, in ancient and modern times he is and will always be wanted to feel supreme , left friendliness under the splendour of that he embodies dancing with the creatures who surround you, is not about you or me, neither him but the whole scenography.

"Blow my darlings" Held them the horn as he continued ritualising. "Call them, let them know where we are, don't expect anyone to come and stay high for so long, if is not for the entwined love I posses, I wouldn't accept on anyone on having full access, unless they earn it." And its contradiction we learn and teach, or both.